If only
by Dave.New
Summary: A cold and lonely night during Fifth year, Hermione waits for something in the Astronomy tower


It was almost serene, with the stars blinking in the darkened sky above the tall towers of Hogwarts. At perhaps one of the taller points, offering the perfect view of the sky and the land below, a woman stood.

Her honey coloured eyes staring out in to nothingness, her arms holding tight to the railing as she waited. Frizzled brown hair blew in the oncoming wind, snapping it back and causing her to look either deranged or angelic. Or perhaps a mixture of both.

Fingers curling around the railing, she waited for him, like she had so many nights before, wishing he would come at least once to her, answering her minds call to him.

It was impossible to think during the day, and mostly during the evening when she was around him nearly constantly. His very presence made her on edge, demanding attention, but at the same time shunning it away.

As the school bell rung quietly in to the night, drawing notice to it being midnight, the infamous witching hour, she gave up. Fingers uncurling from the railing, preparing to push herself away from its confines, she froze.

The door to the room opened, quietly, as if in time with the beat of the bell. Her breath hitched as she heard it close, drowned by the chime that followed, she could not hear who moved, how far they where, who how many.

Her body tensed, feeling eyes on her fragile frame, she only ever came here for solitude, none had every come after her, although she had wished one would time and again.

Bracing to spin around, her hand clutching at the piece of wood inside of her pocket, ready for whatever may be, the young woman froze as two arms slid alongside hers, placing a pair of strong hands against the railing. Stiffening, she closed her eyes, feeling afraid and alive, knowing it couldn't be who she wanted it to be, but hoping beyond all things that it was.

A clothed torso pressed against hers, and she felt his face press against the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent of honey, chocolate, and that marvellous hint of minted cinnamon. A whimper tried to escape her throat, fearing who it might be, she made to turn around, her hand with her valued piece of wood ready to make its masters tormentor suffer.

The hand snapped up, grasping her wand fairing hand with its callused own. She knew few who had such reflexes, and she relaxed, knowing just who it was, and found her prays for once answered.

Her young body relaxing against his toned frame, she tilted her head to the side as a sigh escaped her lips. She was tired, tired of always keeping up a facade, tired of always playing along. This was where she wanted to be all the time, ever since fourth year, after being by his side.

Rough, but gentle, hands slide along her arms, reaching to the clasp of her cloak, they expertly unfastened the garment and let it fall to the floor between them, her slender and smooth neck now exposed to his lips, and he planted a soft, butterfly kiss against the smooth, delicate skin.

He felt her heart rate increase at the kiss, and, if he dared, could probably taste her scent if he ran his tongue across the junction of her neck. A gentle moan escaped her lips as she started to form in to the primal ooze that where her desires.

Sliding her hands away from his own, she reached for the railing with one, as the other grasped his opposite hand, allowing herself the ability to move.

Chocolate brown eyes stared in to his own, deep, dark eyes. She shivered at what she saw there. His poor soul, chained to the face which he kept in place for all to see, the poor boy, the neglected child, the wanna-be star. All was laid before her as she looked in to those depths. Pressing her lips to his deeply, she shivered at his bitter sweet taste: of treacle, caramel, and that strange hint of spearmint.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him to her closely, wanting to just feel contacted to him like she always wanted to.

His hands grasped her waist, tugging her both towards him, and upwards, pulling her flimsy school shirt free of its skirted confines. She would never allow it to be untucked, no matter the occasion. It was something he adored about her. Sliding his rough finger tips against her smooth, delicate skin, he felt her shiver against his touch. Her skin warm despite the cold air.

Tongues slipping out, neither knew who initiated it first, but their kiss deepened, air no issue as their warm breaths coated their faces as they deepened the kiss.

Her fingers traced around his collar, reaching to the tie-free top of his school shirt. She would have scolded him where their mouths not sealed together. Delicate fingers softly plucked open the white garment, looking for entrance to the forbidden land of his muscled torso.

Whole body shivering at her soft touch, his fingers traced circles along her smooth stomach, forcing the garment forever upwards, downwards, and sideways as he slowly moved upwards with as many buttons as she took from him.

As hands met halfway, they finally broke from the kiss, breaths heavy as their eyes locked to one another. Both asking permission to go further than this, following their desires instead of their minds and their facades. Her fingers pulled on his shirt, bringing him back to the kiss as she ripped the last of his buttons free, and at the same time, he pushed her shirt the rest of the way up, breaking the kiss only to let it past.

Bodies now touching intimately, their kiss ascended higher, fingers spreading across flesh, removing the last remains of clothing from their upper bodies as they pulled each other closer and closer.

Gentle moans escaped their throats to one another's mouths.

Breaking apart once more, they stared in to each other's eyes, breathing hard and fast. Her fingers traced up his spine to his face, asking for permission for the final obstacles. A gentle nod as answer, her other hand reached down, struggling with the buckle at his trousers, she growled gentle, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

An annoyed look spread across her tousled face as she looked up once more, only to frown as he moved away, a sad shake of the head her only answer as she went to ask where he was going. She closed her eyes, knowing what this now meant. She had gone though this enough times to know.

The bell finished chiming midnight as her eyes opened once more, and she was alone. Her fingers pulled her robe around her tighter, a sigh escaping her lips.

"If only.." Her words were like a bitter symphony to even her own ears as she pushed away from her resting place, turning towards the door as the last words escaped her lips. "If only it were true, Harry..." Moving to the door, her eyes widened as she saw a pair of feet. Gulping slowly, they travelled upwards, meeting to the pair of eyes from her dream. Those deep green eyes that held her heart captive.

"If only what, 'Mione?" His words where dulcet, gentle, curious. She closed her eyes, stepped towards him, and placed a soft kiss against his cheek.

"Good night, Harry." She moved past him, away from the tower she sought solitude in, and placed her own personal facade up once more. IT would not do to tell Harry the truth. That she loved him. IT just wouldn't do...


End file.
